


Flashing Lights

by Flightless_Bird



Category: Sherlock (TV), Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Black Hat as Holmes, Black Hat is still cocky as hell, Dialogue and plot taken from episode of sherlock, Flug as Watson, M/M, That crossover no one asked for, a little ooc, and they're British for this, just really wanted to rewrite my favorite scene with my favorite characters, the devil and his doctor haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightless_Bird/pseuds/Flightless_Bird
Summary: "That sent them both into boyish snickers, Flug covering his mouth guiltily. “Stop it, we can’t giggle,” he hissed, elbowing Black Hat in the side. “It’s a crime scene, stop.”“Don’t blame me. You shot him.”“You could maybe keep your voice down a bit.”





	Flashing Lights

The red-and-blue flicker of the police cars cast an otherworldly glow over the pavement. Conversations floated above the snap of yellow tape and tap of shoes. Late-night walkers sent curious looks over the scene, gazes lingering on a few things with worry: the ambulance, the crisp navy of the police uniforms, the detective inspector with tense lines written across his face…the man in the billowing, black coat next to him. A blanket had been tossed across his shoulders, and each time he tried to be rid of it, another was given to him. It was enough to have anyone twitching in annoyance.

He was further annoyed when the detective inspector found him, an already-exasperated expression on his face. It had been a long night, no doubt about that. But honestly, he wasn’t ready to deal with a D.I. with a feebly small brain capacity just yet. The minute the D.I. took a breath to speak, the black-coated man cut him off. “Why do I have this blanket?” he demanded, tugging on the edge of the offending fabric. “They keep putting a blanket on me.”

  
The D.I. heaved a tired sigh. “Honestly, Black Hat, I don’t see why it has to be that big of a deal—” The answering glare he received for that statement made him break off. “It’s for shock,” he explained, rolling his eyes.

  
“I’m not in shock!” Black Hat protested, gesturing to himself in outrage. _Him_ , in shock? The very idea was laughable.

  
The D.I. swept a quick glance over the mass of officers and clamoring news reporters around them. “Yeah, but some of the guys want take photographs.”

  
_Oh God_. Growling under his breath, Black Hat shifted, but let the blanket stay. Of course the crowd would want a few pictures of the famous consulting detective, intimidating as he was, what with the inhuman glint of fangs and glowing eyes. Most people didn’t question it. He solved cases and caught murderers; who cared if he sometimes bordered on the more animal side?

  
Right then. Better move on to more important things.

  
The gunshot still echoed loud in his ears, the crack of a bullet breaking glass. The bullet that had killed the serial killer he’d been facing moments before the police had arrived. Someone had wanted that killer dead and there wasn’t a shadow of doubt that the police would want to speak to this mysterious shooter. Black Hat glanced up again at the building he’d been standing in when it had all happened, the window spiderwebbed with cracks. “So, the shooter,” he said, gaze flicking back to the D.I. beside him. “No sign of him.”

  
“Cleared off by the time we got here,” the D.I. replied with a huff. “A guy like that would’ve had enemies, I suppose. One of them could’ve been following him.” Then he shoved his hands into his coat pockets with a shrug. “But we’ve got nothing to go on…”

  
The side of Black Hat’s mouth quirked up, that eager gleam back in his eyes again. He tugged smugly at the brim of his ever-present top hat. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that…”

  
With a look that screamed _here we go again_ , the D.I. grudgingly fished a notebook out of his pocket. “Okay, gimme.”

  
Really, there was quite a lot to go on, Black Hat didn’t know how other people could stand not realizing the obvious. Smoothing down his tie, he began his usual, slightly-cocky list of deductions. “The bullet they just dug out of the wall was from a hand gun. A kill shot over that distance from that kind of weapon—that’s a crack shot you’re looking for. But not just a marksmen, a fighter—his hand couldn’t have shaken at all, so clearing he’s acclimatized to violence. He didn’t fire ‘til I was in immediate danger, though. So, strong moral principles.” As he spoke, his gaze swept out over the surrounding glow of police cars, uniformed officers, a military doctor waiting patiently with hands linked behind his back… “You’re looking for a man probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel—”

  
Military doctor. He broke off, blinking. Yes, there amid the lights and chaos, was Dr. Flug, waiting as he always did for Black Hat to finish his work at the end of a case. He didn’t even seemed fazed by the fact that his paper bag was absent— _too hurried to put it on before he ran out to find me_ —instead observing with reserved calm. The dark jacket he wore looked so…off on him, further proof that he’d been hurrying and had grabbed that instead of his lab coat. But it brought out the dark color of his hair and the curves of his shoulders, and Black Hat found himself thinking that Flug always carried a gun on him underneath anything he wore.

  
As he watched, Flug’s head turned, blue gaze finding Black Hat. From across a sea of policemen and flashing lights, their eyes met. Black Hat’s lips parted as the realization dawned on him, painfully obvious. For a moment, he could only stare.

  
A doctor, _his_ doctor.

  
_Oh my God_.

  
The D.I. had faltered in his writing, waiting instead for Black Hat’s next words. Black Hat seemed to shake himself out of a daze. “Actually, you know what—ignore me,” he said simply.

  
“I’m sorry?” the D.I. asked, bewildered.

  
“Ignore all that. It’s the…shock talking.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he began to walk away.

  
“Where are you going?”

  
“Just need to…discuss the rent.”

  
“I still got questions for you!”

  
“What, _now_?” Tipping his head back in mock despair, Black Hat shot him a pointed look. “I’m in shock,” he deadpanned, waving at his blanket. “Look, I’ve got a blanket.”

  
The D.I. gave him a flat look. “Black Hat…”

  
Black Hat pointed at him with raised eyebrows. “And I did just catch a serial killer for you. More or less.”

  
For a moment, it looked like the D.I. might try to keep him a little longer. His fingers tapped anxiously on the sides of his notepad. Then, finally, he let out a long breath. “Okay. We’ll pull you in tomorrow—off you go.”

  
Without a backward glance, Black Hat left him. He tore that atrocious blanket from his shoulders (shock, really?) and tossed it through the open window of a police car as he passed. He didn’t take his eyes off the man in front of him, sure strides carrying him through the cacophony directly to his—

  
“Sergeant Donovan’s been explaining everything,” Flug said, once Black Hat had reached him. He had his hands in his jacket pockets, back straight, businesslike. As though nothing had happened. “The two pills,” he went on, indicating that lethal drug Black Hat had nearly taken from the serial killer. “Dreadful business, dreadful.”

  
A knowing grin played across Black Hat’s lips, revealing just a hint of teeth. “Good shot,” he said quietly.

  
At first, Flug just blinked up at him. Then he shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Yeah, it must have been,” he agreed, avoiding Black Hat’s eyes. “Through that window.”

  
“Well, you’d know,” Black Hat returned cheekily.

  
Flug’s gaze darted to his again, almost a warning. Black Hat simply arched a brow, daring him to deny it. With a resigned sigh, Flug dropped his eyes, but with a little smile dancing across his mouth. Something strange and not at all unpleasant stirred in Black Hat’s chest.

  
“We’ll need to get the powder burns out of your finger,” he added, jerking himself from…whatever that had been in that moment. “I don’t suppose you’d serve time for this, but let’s avoid the court case…. Are you all right?”

  
Flug’s brow furrowed, lips curling in confusion. “Course I’m all right.”

  
“You have just killed a man,” Black Hat reminded him. _Killed a man to potentially save me. You stupid, terribly wonderful doctor…_

  
Flug thought about that for a moment. “Yeah,” he admitted. “True. But he wasn’t a very nice man.” The mixture of street lamps and police cars sent light dancing through his dark, tousled hair. Black Hat had to force himself to stop staring so much.

  
“No,” he agreed, a bit of humor sneaking into his voice. “No, he wasn’t really, was he?”

  
“And frankly, a bloody awful cabbie."

  
Half a laugh escaped Black Hat at that one, turning to walk from the crime scene and back into the normality of life. Or, er, whatever the normality of his life entailed. A stupid grin spread across his face as Flug immediately followed, close enough for their elbows to brush. “Yeah, that’s true,” Black Hat replied. “A very bad cabbie. You should’ve seen the route we took here.”

  
That sent them both into boyish snickers, Flug covering his mouth guiltily. “Stop it, we can’t giggle,” he hissed, elbowing Black Hat in the side. “It’s a crime scene, stop.”

  
“Don’t blame me. _You_ shot him.”

  
“You could maybe keep your voice down a bit.”

  
Flug’s eyes followed a passing detective warily, and Black Hat decided to keep his mouth shut as she passed. She still gave them a suspicious look though and Flug hurried to smooth things over. “Sorry, sorry just…nerves,” he stammered.

  
“Sorry,” Black Hat added, not at all sorry in the least.

  
The minute the detective was out of sight, Flug’s gaze was back on Black Hat. Something had darkened them, erasing the earlier humor of the night. “…you were going to take the damn pill, weren’t you?”

  
Ah, yes, the pill. The two pills offered by a killer in a twisted game: pick one and hope it isn’t the lethal one. Of course Flug would be worried that Black Hat would fall for it. Black Hat’s mouth twisted up at the corner. “Course I wasn’t,” he answered. “Playing for time. Knew you’d show up.”

  
“No, you didn’t,” Flug argued, and Black Hat raised his eyebrows. “That’s how you get your kicks, isn’t it? Risking your life to prove you’re clever.”

  
“Why would I do that?”

  
“Because you’re an idiot.”

  
Black Hat shot him an offended look, but Flug only raised his eyebrows as though to say _I’m not taking it back._

  
Cheeky doctor. His heart betrayed him, pounding irregularly in his chest and making him smile. Dammit, Black Hat was really losing his edge if he couldn’t stop these…emotions from sneaking in around his doctor. But he still let himself smile, still let himself revel in the way Flug looked at him.

  
“Dinner?”

  
And Flug smiled back. “Starving.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm weak for this crossover idea. The minute I thought of it, I wrote it down as fast as possible. The picture of these two as these characters is perfect to me, and I loved writing it. The dialogue was taken from the script of a Sherlock episode, mainly because I just wanted to insert them in there and see how well their characters worked. It was a little OOC, haha, but I hope you guys liked it c: 
> 
> All credit for plot and dialogue goes to the writers of Sherlock. 
> 
> This is my favorite scene from the show and I hope my writing did it justice.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
